Chapter 7
The alley behind the legal aid center was dark. The streetlamp flickered, casting long, jumping shadows on the brick walls.
Bethel locked the back door of the office, exhausted. Her feet throbbed. She had spent ten hours fighting evictions for single mothers.
A black SUV idled at the end of the alley, blocking the exit.
Bethel stopped. Her hand went into her purse, fingers wrapping around the small canister of pepper spray.
The rear window rolled down. Smoke billowed out.
Harvey Huber stepped out of the vehicle. He was wearing a suit that cost more than Bethel made in a year, but it couldn't hide the bloat of his face or the cruelty in his small eyes. Two large men in dark shirts stepped out of the front seats.
"Harvey," Bethel said, keeping her voice steady. "I told you I'm busy."
Harvey took a drag of his cigar and flicked the ash onto the pavement. He walked toward her, backing her against the brick wall.
"You're making this hard, Bethel," he said, stepping into her personal space. He smelled of stale smoke and expensive cologne.
He pulled a folded document from his inside pocket and slapped it against the wall next to her head.
"Prenup," he said. "Sign it. We get married next month. My dad makes the call to the DA. Your dad comes home."
Bethel looked at the paper. It was a slavery contract. She would get nothing. He would own her.
"I will never marry you," she hissed. "My father would rather die in prison than see me with a pig like you."
Harvey's face turned red. He reached out and grabbed her throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to choke her, just enough to show he could.
"Don't act like you're special," he spat, leaning in. "I have eyes everywhere, Bethel. I heard about the little reunion at River Oaks. Saw your old flame in town. Lowery. I know how he looked at you. Like you were garbage."
Bethel flinched. The truth of it stung worse than his hand on her neck.
"He knows what you are," Harvey whispered. "Damaged goods. No one wants the daughter of a traitor. Except me."
He leaned in to kiss her, his wet lips puckered.
Bethel didn't think. She reacted.
She brought her knee up, driving it hard into his groin.
Harvey let out a strangled yelp and doubled over, releasing her throat.
"Get her!" he wheezed to his bodyguards.
Bethel scrambled back, pulling the pepper spray. "My phone is live-streaming to a secure server!" she screamed, bluffing with every ounce of conviction she had. "Every word you say is being recorded and sent directly to the DA's office! Touch me and it's assault on top of witness tampering!"
The bodyguards hesitated, looking at the street. A police cruiser rolled past the end of the alley, its lights flashing silently.
Harvey straightened up, clutching himself. His eyes were murderous.
"You'll beg me," he growled. "By the end of the week, you'll be on your knees begging me to marry you."
He signaled his men. They piled back into the SUV.
Harvey gave her one last look of pure venom before getting in. The car peeled out, leaving a cloud of exhaust.
Bethel slumped against the brick wall, her legs giving out. She dropped the pepper spray. Her hands were shaking so hard she couldn't pick it up.
Her phone rang.
She jumped, a small scream escaping her throat. She fumbled for it.
"Bethel?" It was Chynna. She was crying. Slurring. "I'm at The Rusty Nail. Preston left... I can't find my shoes... please come."
Bethel wiped a tear from her cheek. She took a deep breath, forcing the terror down into a box in her mind.
"I'm coming, Chynna."
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